


The Fire

by Twyd



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Pining, Pre-Slash, Slash, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Yakuza, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 15:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21000269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twyd/pseuds/Twyd
Summary: Izaya 'does something terrible' and goes to Shizuo for help.





	The Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Can never think of a decent/appropriate title.

Izaya and Shizuo are in a bar. Together. It is a first for them, after a solid six months of fucking. They had run into each other on a street corner and, before Izaya could tense, Shizuo had said, “I’m starving.”

“What a buzz kill,” Izaya mutters. He leads Shizuo to a nearby Noodle bar even so. Well. Nearby-ish. Shizuo complains, but Izaya assures him that the noodles are really good. He gets them a spot by the window, so he can look outside while Shizuo slurps. 

“You drag me all the way here and you’re not even getting anything?”

Shizuo has to say it twice before Izaya blinks. He frowns irritably.

“Don’t you like it?”

“Sure, but…”

Izaya’s gaze is back out the window already. He looks like a cat waiting for a bird. Shizuo gives up. 

He has moved back to his own thoughts, when he notices Izaya tense. He looks up and follows the informant’s gaze out of the window; several Yakuza are getting out of their cars and heading into a club. Shizuo recognises Shiki but not many others. The doorman nods them through as they over-take the queue, and everyone politely pretends not to notice. Shizuo glances at Izaya, who is still stiff, watching them. Shizuo wonders if the informant is in trouble.

“I wonder what they’re up to.”

Izaya appears to have forgotten all about him. He blinks, and scowls at Shizuo like he’s an imbecile. “They’ve got girls with them.”

Once again, Shizuo gives up. Izaya keeps watching the cars and the club, and they barely speak. 

Shizuo has barely paid for his food when Izaya says, “Are we going or what?”

“Hey, if you’re in a bad mood you can fuck off,” Shizuo says irritably. “You’re hard enough to deal with as it is.”

“Sorry.” Amazingly, Izaya actually sounds genuine. He must be really horny. He pats Shizuo’s hand, a little awkwardly: they don’t touch each other much out of bed. “I’ll make it up to you.”

-

That night at the noodle bar was the first time Izaya had seen Shiki in a while. He had spoken with him, had been on a long briefing call with him in which he’d lost his resolve, put the phone on mute and jerked off to the sound of the other man’s voice. He had come, laughed at himself, hated himself and gathered himself all in time to unmute the phone and say, in albeit a slightly strange voice, “Yes, that’s all clear Shiki-san, thank you.”

Thank God it was all information he already had. But the job was cancelled anyway, and Izaya hadn’t really heard from him since. He lurks in the background of the Awakusu-Kai’s and their rivals’ operations, waiting. He had started sleeping with Shizuo at some point along the way, out of their mutual loneliness and freakishness. This timeframe puts his desire for Shiki, how long it had been gnawing at him, horribly into perspective. But he tries not to think about it.

He wishes Shiki would just  _ want _ something from him. Regardless of his, Shiki’s, sexuality, Izaya wishes he would get so frustrated or bored or power-tripped that he would just grab Izaya by the throat and do something to him, but he never gives Izaya so much as a heated glance. And Izaya knows that when he does feel like that, he will have his pick of call girls and plenty of other beauties, that he probably sometimes goes to them the minute he drops Izaya off at the end of their nighttime meetings, and the thought makes him both furious and lonelier than ever. He goes to Shizuo, more or less Shiki’s opposite in every way, to try to numb it.

-

He is wandering through Shinjuku one night, when he smells smoke, trouble, alarm. He naturally changes his route and follows his nose. 

There is no-one else around. A car is on fire in one of Shinjuku’s shadier areas. He drifts closer for a better look, and stands stock still. It is Shiki’s car. Shiki’s car is on fire. The smell of metal, rust, heated plastic, oil assaults his nose. Flames curl up from inside the car windows. Smoke and heat engulf him, and his eyes sting. He steps forward, shaking. Something howls inside of him. He reaches his hands out mechanically to the flames.

“Izaya!”

A hand grabs his elbow, yanking him back. Izaya’s hands are burned, but he barely notices. It is Shiki dragging him backwards, untouched by the flames.

“What are you doing?” he demands, when they finally stop at a safe distance. 

Izaya stares at him dumbly.

“I - you - the car - I thought you...”

Shiki stares back in shock. Izaya is crying. He can’t help it. He still can’t quite believe Shiki is not dead. The other man’s face softens, and he pulls Izaya into a hug.

Izaya clings hard, forgetting himself, trying to embed Shiki’s alive-ness into himself. He holds on for a long time, feeling the heat of the car. Shiki is all right. There’s not a mark on him. His arms are strong, steady.

“Stop crying,” Shiki says, very gently.

This brings him back. He lets go of Shiki and scrubs at his eyes. He is suddenly exhausted. He could curl up right next to the burning car and fall asleep. 

Voices are calling Shiki from the building behind them.

“My driver’s out front in a different car,” Shiki tells him in an unreadable voice. “Grey Toyota. Go and wait for me.”

Izaya nods and goes, not looking at him. He finds the grey Toyota in the next street but walks past it. He keeps walking, through the entertainment district, through the park, through the neighbouring Takananobaba neighbourhood, through the next neighbourhood, without realising where he’s going. He still smells burning, and realises his jacket cuffs are ruined. His hands are very red. 

He emerges in another entertainment district, a sleazier version of Shinjuku’s. Someone catcalls him from the shadows, either flirting or mocking. He lifts his head and sees the blaring billboards of Seibu department store just below the moon. He is in Ikebukuro. 

He collects himself and steps out on to the crossing, faster now, although his feet are starting to hurt. 

The elevator is broken, naturally, so he has to walk up eight flights of stairs. The corridor is warm with the smell of cooking, if dark, and he decides he will go no further, even if no-one answers and he has to sit at the door like a stray. He goes to the last door and knocks.

Shizuo takes a while to answer the door. He looks annoyed when he sees who it is.

“I’m eating. You could have called.” Then he squints at Izaya and blinks. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Izaya gives an awful little laugh. “Ah, Shizu-chan, I’ve done something terrible.”

Shizuo falls back to let him inside. His arm encircles Izaya’s waist, and Izaya is so pathetically grateful for this he almost starts crying again.

“What is it?” Shizuo says urgently. “Is anyone hurt?”

Izaya starts giggling. The idea of Shizuo thinking he’d murdered someone was struck him as terribly funny.

“What did you do?” Shizuo demands, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Nothing!” Izaya says. “No-one’s hurt. Put me down, you brute.”

Shizuo lets go of him, exasperated, and Izaya invites himself into the tiny apartment, barely remembering to kick off his shoes. He plomps himself on an untidy array of cushions by a half-eaten bowl of noodles and a tired-looking laptop, where Shizuo had apparently been watching anime.

“You sure no-one’s hurt?” Shizuo says, following him.

“No-one’s hurt,” Izaya says, exasperated.

“OK. Sorry.” The other man unrolls a blanket from the top of his wardrobe and tucks it round Izaya, who giggles weakly. 

Shizuo watches him warily.

“So, what happened?”

Izaya shakes his head.

“What’s with your jacket?”

They both look at his cuffs, the fur almost completely black.

“Are  _ you _ hurt?”

“My feet hurt.”

“Your feet?”

Sighing, Izaya tells him about the car and about Shiki and the crying and walking here from Shinjuku. He doesn’t tell Shizuo why this is so important, why it hurt so much, leaving him to figure it out for himself.

“It gets worse,” the informant says. “He gave me a hug and I cried all over him, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t help myself. I was so sure he was dead.”

Shizuo is sitting cross legged in front of him. Izaya can’t face him, so he speaks to Shizuo’s ankles instead. 

He is calmer though, for no matter how much it had hurt, how humiliated he was and the fact that his career might be ruined, that Shiki might never work with him again, it was still better than Shiki being dead. He was so relieved he could barely think straight. He’s still shaking over being confronted with just how much Shiki meant to him, how fucking stupid he was.

Shizuo is silent for a while, processing what he’s been told.

“Is that all?”

Izaya’s head snaps up, with eyes like knives.

“I mean,” Shizuo says hastily. “I mean, I can understand why you’re upset. But everything’s OK. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Shizuo,” Izaya says, scarcely able to believe the other man’s naivety. “He saw me in hysterics. Over nothing. I’ve probably spoken to my accountant more than I’ve ever spoken to him. He’ll think I’m nuts.”

“So you cried in front of him,” Shizuo says. “He’ll just be confused. He won’t be horrified or disgusted or anything like that. He’s not gonna have you killed. He’ll just be - confused.”

Izaya shakes his head and helps himself to Shizuo’s kitten-patterned tissues. 

“Think of it from his view,” Shizuo continues. “He doesn’t know what was going through your head. For all he knows, you’ve been going through something really bad in your personal life, and seeing someone you work with possibly dead in a fire might have sent you over the edge.”

_ “Yes.” _ Izaya sits up straight, his eyes gleaming. “Shizuo, you’re absolutely right, you’re a genius. I just have to make something up.”

“What? No!”

“Yes. I won’t even have to do that, because Shiki won’t pry - I’ll just hint that something really terrible has been going on, and I had a little - moment. I have to be careful though, because no-one will work with me again if they think I’m neurotic and about to lose my shit at every little thing.”

“Izaya.” Shizuo’s voice is gentle, for once. “Just, calm down, OK? Don’t - don’t run off with all these schemes in your head.”

Izaya sniffs and says nothing. He looks blankly at Shizuo’s muted laptop over his knees, watching the anime without seeing it.

“If I found out someone loved me that much,” Shizuo offers. “It’d make me feel good. I wouldn’t want to hurt that person.”

“Of course he won’t want to hurt me,” Izaya sighs, and suddenly the despair he’d been feeling turns into something heavier and more final, like lead. “He will be very polite, and then he will be very distant, and that will be it.” He shakes his head. “What was I thinking, making something up about personal problems. Shiki will see through that immediately. He sees through everything. He’ll take one more look at me and understand.”

“Don’t think about that now,” Shizuo urges. He thinks for a moment. “Did you run away?”

“His buddies started calling him and he told me to go and wait in his other car. Now that I think about it he probably arranged the fucking fire himself, or something. Then I came here.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Shizuo frowns. “He might think you’ve done something stupid.”

“What could I possibly do that’s more stupid than what I’ve already done?”

His phone rings then, startling them both. 

“Answer it,” Shizuo tells him.

“No.” He lets it ring out.

He’s barely heaved a sigh of relief, when it starts up again.

“ _ Answer _ it,” Shizuo says. “I’ll go outside.”

“No, I will.” Izaya struggles out of Shizuo’s blanket nest and takes his phone out into the hall, not bothering with his shoes. The call almost rings out again by the time he answers.

“Hi Shiki-san. Sorry, I was almost asleep.”

“Izaya.” Despite everything, the relief of hearing Shiki’s voice, hearing him alive and well and smooth as ever, is wonderful. Izaya tips his head back against Shizuo’s door and closes his eyes, savouring it. “You didn’t wait for me.”

“No,” he admits. “Sorry.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Sorry. I’ve had a very bad week. I’ll tell you properly when I see you. I just - I really need to sleep now. Can we talk tomorrow?”

“Can’t we talk now? I’m downstairs.”

“Downstairs?” Izaya’s heart nearly dies in his chest, when he realises that Shiki can’t possibly be downstairs. “Ah, Shiki-san, I’m afraid I’m not home. I’m at a friend’s.”

“You are?”

“Yes, I came straight here. Sorry.” 

There’s a silence like Shiki doesn’t believe him. 

“You can break in if you want,” he offers. “I promise I’m not there.”

“No, it’s all right,” Shiki sighs. “I want to see you tomorrow though.”

“Tomorrow, then. Of course. That’s fine.”

There’s a little pause.

“Izaya?”

“Yes?”

“Whatever you’re thinking, just stop, OK? I’m not angry. I just want to talk.”

“Of course,” Izaya says, his voice catching. He gets it under control and says, “I know. I’m just embarrassed, obviously. And very tired. I’ll explain it all tomorrow. But I’m keeping my friend awake just now so, can we talk tomorrow? I can meet the car somewhere if you want?”

“I’ll come to you,” Shiki tells him. “I’ll text you the time. Please don’t run off again.”

“Of course,” Izaya says. “Sorry about that. Thanks. Goodnight.”

He snaps the phone shut and bangs his head against Shizuo’s door, hating himself.

A neighbour opposite comes out into the corridor, trash in hand. He gives Izaya an odd look, standing in the corridor in his socks and with sleeves that had been on fire. Izaya sighs and goes back inside.

“Well?” Shizuo says.

“He was OK. He was nice. He went to my fucking apartment,” Izaya sighs, pushing past him and dropping back on to the cushions. 

Shizuo goes into his cramped kitchen area and comes back with a steaming bowl. “It’s just broth,” Shizuo says before Izaya can protest. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t believe in comfort food,” Izaya grumbles, but he takes the bowl anyway. Somehow, its warmth does comfort him. He feels his thoughts slow with every sip. 

“Do you want something for your hands?” Shizuo asks him.

“No.”

He finished the last drop of the soothing broth. “Thank you,” he says. “Can I use your shower?”

“It’s all yours.”

Izaya had been here before, of course, so he knows where to find a toothbrush and clean towel. He showers and feels much better, though the heat of the water hurts his hands. Afterwards, he finds Shizo’s robe hanging on the door and wraps himself in it.

Shizuo has put his laptop away and switched off the ceiling lights, leaving just a small bedside lamp glowing in the corner. He has taken down the double futon and spread it out.

Izaya joins him, feeling almost guilty.

“Thanks Shizuo.” He pauses. “I’ve done a lot to you, but tonight is really shitty, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Shizuo says, making room for him. “We’re not in love, so it’s not like I’m devastated.” He pauses and says. “It’s actually kinda nice to see you care about something so much.”

Izaya settles in the futon and wraps his arms around Shizuo’s waist. Shizuo reaches up and turns off the lamp.

They should make more effort with each other, Izaya thinks. Only they had nothing in common and got so bored and frustrated with each other, rubbing along only to relieve their own loneliness. It would be pretty depressing if neither of them ever found someone else.

To make Shizuo laugh, Izaya tells him about jerking off to Shiki’s voice over the phone, making it a funny story and not a sad one.

“I wouldn’t trust technology enough to do something like that,” Shizuo says, chuckling.

“I put a scarf in my mouth just in case.”

“God, that’s hot.”

“Do you want to…?” He trails his hand up Shizuo’s side, thinking he owes it to him, if nothing else, but Shizuo grabs his hand to still it.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re tired,” he grumbles. He keeps hold of the informant’s hand.

“Do you want to stop doing this?” the informant asks tentatively. “I mean, you know who I want now. Although, I don’t mind if you’re interested in other people too…”

“Let’s see how we go,” Shizuo says absently. “But if we - if we do stop, you can still talk to me. I know we’re not very good at hanging out, but…”

“...OK.” 

Izaya can’t see himself spending much time with Shizuo if they’re not having sex, but he doesn’t want to argue about it now. He feels a little sad inside at losing something he could have had, of never really trying for it. 

“You won’t agree, but I think it’s important to have this kind of thing happen to you,” Shizuo says now. “Even if it hurts. I’ve never been in love. I don’t think I’ve even come close. I think it’s better to have that experience than never have anything.”

“I do disagree,” Izaya sighs. “I’d rather be free. Experiences are just biology anyway, chemistry in our brains. We make up stories about what we experience based on our environment. None of it’s real. None of it really matters.”

“OK, I’m going to sleep now.”

Izaya chuckles.

“Goodnight, Shizu-chan.”

-

It’s strange, but he wakes up feeling wonderful. He hadn’t cried for a while, and he had read somewhere that tears could be detoxifying, so maybe it was that. Or maybe it was just Shizuo’s magic soup and the warmth of his arms. Not to mention the subconscious awareness that Shiki was alive and well, not burned to death. Remembering that feeling makes him shudder. He slips out of the futon and goes to make tea.

He brings Shizuo a cup when he starts to stir.

“Thanks,” Shizuo says sleepily. “How do you feel?”

“Better. I think I absorbed some of your happy vibes in my sleep.”

“I doubt it. I’m not particularly happy.”

Izaya looks at him sadly.

Shizuo catches his eye and sits up.

“You are going to see him today, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Izaya says, although he had privately already begun to fantasise ways of weaselling out of it.

He does not tell Shizuo that, when he does have to confront Shiki, he will be lying for all he’s worth.

-

Namie is at her computer when he gets home. It feels strange that life is ticking on as normal, after revealing himself so completely to arguably the two most important people in his life. He wonders whether she will notice anything different about him. 

She merely glances at him however, and barely pauses in her typing.

He takes off his ruined jacket.

“Hey, Namie, you work so hard, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

She gives a small sigh at the interruption, as if he weren’t a wonderfully kind and generous employer giving her some time off.

“I’m just trying to finish something.”

“Can’t you finish it at home? With the wonders of technology today, we can work from anywhere!”

She does look at him then, her fingers falling still.

“Why? What are you doing that you don’t want me to see?”

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow! Let me get your coat.”

“It’s Saturday tomorrow.”

“Great. A long weekend for you then. Chop chop!”

She smirks.

“Is it a date?”

“Of course not.” This hurts, and he has to turn away. He’s no better than his sisters and their pathetic pop star fantasies.

Namie does start getting ready, but so slowly that she might as well be staying. First she goes to the bathroom. Then she closes every programme on her computer one by one. Then she retrieves her lunch from the fridge and starts rinsing out the cup she’d been using. Then she combs her hair, starts looking for something in her handbag, pretends to be searching for something on the floor.

“Come on Namie, this is getting childish now. I thought you’d appreciate the free time.” He pauses. “Don’t you want to see what Seiji’s up to?”

He only brings up Seiji when he really has to, and he feels slightly guilty for it.

She glares at him, all the humour gone from her face.

“You’re pathetic. I don’t know why I even speak to you.”

He lets her go. He can’t think about her now. Shiki will be here in two hours.

He showers, cleans the already clean apartment, checks his phone obsessively in case Shiki changes the time. His hands look worse today. How will he explain that? Temporary insanity? 

Someone knocks at the door. He frowns. If it’s Namie back to wind him up, claiming she’d forgotten something, he’d say the nastiest thing he could think of with no regrets. He opens the door, but it isn’t Namie. It’s Shiki.

“Shiki-san,” he blurts. “You’re early!”

“Yes,” he says coolly. “I thought you might change your mind.”

Bastard.

“A little rude,” Izaya laughs, stepping aside to let him in. “What if I’d been in the middle of something. Never mind. Sit down, I’ll make some tea.”

His heart thuds horribly as he makes the tea. He doesn’t look round, not wanting to see if Shiki is watching him. Shiki is texting when Izaya does turn round, but he snaps it shut and puts it away when Izaya sets the tea down. Izaya takes a seat opposite him.

“About last night,” he blurts, before Shiki can open his mouth. “I’m very sorry about that, for all the drama. I don’t want to go into it, but I’ve had a really rough week, there’s a lot going on, and seeing you, well, I suppose I would be a bit sad if anything happened to you, so I just had a bit of a moment.”

He pauses for air. He’s too clunky, he’s ballsing it up. But maybe that was making him sound more authentic. 

Shiki is watching him intently. Izaya tries to make his eyes wide and innocent, if a little embarrassed, as possible.

“You’ve had a rough week,” Shiki repeats eventually. 

“Yes,” Izaya says. “But it’s getting better now. This won’t happen again.” He can see that Shiki doesn’t believe him, but holds his gaze anyway.

“Can I help with anything?”

“Help…? Oh, no thank you. It’s very personal. I’m taking care of it.”

He still doesn’t look convinced. “Where did you go last night? Shinra’s?”

“No.” Izaya swallows. “Have you spoken to him?”

“No. I just wondered where you went.”

Izaya doesn’t take the bait.

Shiki stares at him a moment longer, and appears to relent.

“Well,” he says eventually. “I hope you’re all right. I was worried about you.”

“Thanks,” he says as his heart sings. “Sorry. I’m fine.”

He nods. “I’ll leave you in peace.”

Izaya blinks. He had been expecting a tougher interrogation. Maybe Shiki really did believe him?

“Did you want some more tea?” Izaya ventures.

“No thanks. I have another meeting to get to.”

He is already back on his phone. This hurts, even though Izaya tells himself this is what he wanted, that he wants things to be normal and for Shiki to forget this had happened.

His heart flutters like a trapped bird as he walks Shiki to the front door. He tries to think of something, a joke or something Shiki likes talking about, but his mind is blank. He had lost his footing in the other man’s eyes, and that could be unforgivable in the Yakuza world. 

“Haruya,” he blurts.

Halfway through the door, Shiki stops and looks at him in surprise.

Izaya stares back helplessly.

Neither of them speak. Izaya knows what he’s supposed to do, but he can’t bring himself to move. It is Shiki who finally understands and kisses him. The door is shut somewhere behind them. Arms come round his waist. He closes his eyes and lets it all happen, both thrilled and relieved. 

They kiss for a wonderfully long, long time, and it makes Izaya’s heart sing, when it becomes clear that Shiki isn’t just testing him.

“You are such a little liar,” Shiki murmurs into his hair.

“You lied too,” Izaya argues feebly. “You said you had another meeting.”

Shiki chuckles. “I think your lie was a little more damaging.” He strokes Izaya’s hair as he speaks. 

Izaya swallows. “Ah, you still deceived me though,” he says, bolder now. The hand in his hair stills. “You knew all along and you were messing with me.”

“No I didn’t,” he says at once. “I didn’t know for sure until just now. And if I’d got it wrong, you could have used it against me.” He gives a little sigh. “I’ve never been able to figure you out, ever since I first met you.”

Izaya closes his eyes. He could quite happily stay like this forever, leaning against Shiki in his hall, but the other man squeezes his hand.

“Come on, let’s go out.”

“Out?” Izaya straightens in alarm.

“Yes. I’m hungry, and I have reservations.” 

“Where? Do I have to change?”

“No, but you do have to hurry. I’m afraid I lost track of time.”

-

He needs to call Shizuo. He had, quite selfishly, forgotten all about him.

“Hi Shizu-chan,” Izaya says when he gets through. “Sorry it’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m OK, how about you?”

“I’m good, really, really good.”

Shizuo gives a little laugh. “I thought so. I thought no news would be good news. That, or you ran off to the mountains to avoid him.”

“Almost,” Izaya says, and tells him everything. 

“Don’t tell him about our history,” Shizuo says at once. “He might be the jealous type.”

“Don’t be silly,” Izaya says, though the idea of a jealous Shiki fucking someone up appeals to him more than it probably should.

“I don’t get it though,” Shizuo says. “I mean, has he said much? About how he feels?”

“This isn’t a play,” Izaya says. “And honestly, I don’t care if he’s using me, messing with me, or any of that. It doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t say that.”

“But I don’t think he is,” Izaya adds. “I think he’s, um, genuine.”

“Good,” Shizuo says quietly. “I’m really happy for you.”

Izaya experiences a little twinge of guilt.

“You need to hook up with someone else, Shizu-chan.”

“Don’t,” he groans. “Don’t turn into one of those preachy relationship people just because you’re happy.”

“Suit yourself,” Izaya says, already mentally plotting. He knows everyone in their social circle and then some. He figures it can’t take much work to manipulate both Shizuo and a chosen candidate, and put them in a situation where they’d figure out if they liked each other or not. 

“Are you listening to me?” Shizuo grumbles down the phone.

“Of course, Shizu-chan.”

Shizuo would be difficult, because he was frightened of hurting someone and believed he was worthless. But Izaya could work with that. He had manipulated far more difficult people in the past. 

**Author's Note:**

> Missing scene that didn't make the cut-
> 
> On the other side of Tokyo, Shiki had barely slept at all, burning through his cigarettes, his coffee and his thoughts for half the night. He had been tempted to let himself into Izaya’s flat, but he’d been able to tell from the informant's voice that he wasn’t lying. Save for demanding Izaya leave wherever he was and come to Shiki in the middle of the night, there wasn’t a lot he could do. He kept picking up his phone, deliberating. He eventually put it in another room, and it was only then, exhausted, that he finally slept.


End file.
